Pain
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Mimi can't deal with Roger's anger anymore. She turns to something sharp for help. THERE IS NO CHARACTER DEATH! MimiRoger, and rated T for basically the whole thing. DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT APRIL. this is not about her, but still...


**i am home sick and i am sad. therefore, i write stuff like this.**

"Stop fucking talking to me like that! You're so—stop it! Stop crying! I just can't deal with this right now!" Roger threw up his hands and stormed out of Mimi's apartment, grabbing his jacket on the way. Mimi stop still for a moment, then sank onto her bed, pressing her face against the sheets and trying to stifle the sobs. No, he couldn't do this to her, he just couldn't…she moaned and curled into a fetal position. Why did things go like this, for the love of god why did he have to hate her so badly? They had been fine…talking, kissing, even laughing a little. And then before she knew it, he was screaming at her, shrieking, hating her with all of himself and yelling, yelling, yelling, stomping, shouting…It Mimi knew she was going to throw up a second before she did. She managed to vomit over the side of the bed in time. It splashed to the floor in sour-smelling waves. Mimi convulsed, her body wracked with grief and gagging.

She finally lay still, trembling all over. She couldn't take it anymore; the stress that upset her stomach like that, the pain, the screaming, the anger…Mimi hardly knew what she was doing as she got up and stumbled to the bathroom, nearly stepping in the splatter of vomit and bumping into walls. She was still crying, though the sobs had subsided slightly. She clumsily grasped at something, anything, and hefted it in her hand. It was a handle to something; her razor, the one she used to shave her legs for work. Without knowing, without understanding, Mimi slumped to the ground, huddling beside the toilet. Make it stop, different pain, life is pain, but different pain…

She scraped the razor across her arm. It sliced through her smooth brown skin, gouging cuts from which crimson blood welled eagerly. She watched with dull satisfaction as the oily redness rose to the surface, overflowed, trickled down her arm in small tracks, then rivulets, then flowing streams of red which dripped from the bottom of her arm to the bathroom floor.

The pain was slow, but so fulfilling, so strong, so numbing…It pushed out the grief, pushed out the guilt and the horror and the need. Mimi bared her teeth and drew the razor across her arm again; then again and again and again until her arm was a grotesque mass of ragged flesh and blood. Blood everywhere, blood steadily making pools on the ground…

"Mimi?" His voice groggily made its way into her mind. She blinked and lazily drew the razor across her palm, savoring the painful stinging as more blood poured from the cut. Roger was walking around her apartment, she could hear the footsteps…he had seen the vomit, he must have, and he was heading towards the bathroom. His footsteps stopped outside.

"Mimi, open the door…Mimi, I'm sorry, I really am, open up…" She was silent. After a moment of silence, the handle turned and Roger stepped in. His face was remorseful; until it twisted and froze in a mask of horror and shock. Mimi sat there, feeling somewhat dizzy and floaty, blood still flowing steadily from her arm. It was staining the floor now, little dribbles and a big pool in the tiles, spreading, spreading…

"Oh my god…oh my…no…NO!" Roger's knees gave way, and he fell to the floor. He curled into himself, and Mimi heard him sobbing, sobbing harder than she had been before.

"April…no, please no, anything but this…April…Mimi…oh my god, no…" She drew her knees up against her chest, the ravaged arm held out peacefully. Her giant brown eyes were steady on him as he spasmed and sobbed, grinding his face into the floor. Finally Roger wound down and uncurled, staring at her as he rose. Mimi was feeling very woozy now, almost as if she was hovering over her own body and just watching peacefully what was happening, watching the blood fall down, down, down, and watch her own skin get paler and paler and paler…

"Mimi…oh Mimi, no…" Roger crawled over to her, blood staining his clothes for weeks to come. Gently, avoiding looking or touching that arm at all costs, he scooped her up and rocked her in his lap, soothing her and whispering gently, words like, "I won't let you go…I'm here…I won't let you go, Mimi, I can't…April, don't let her die, don't let her go…" Mimi nestled against him and sighed. The floating feeling continued as she watched Roger look desperately for gauze, then tear his own shirt into one long bandage that he wound around and around and around her arm, tight and stiff. She watched him place her gently in the bathtub, strip off all her blood-soaked clothes and gently wash the redness away, steam rising from the hot water. She watched as he picked her up and carried her out of the bathroom, where he toweled her dry and dressed her in soft clothes from her drawer. Then he lid on the bed, the wonderful, amazingly soft bed, and ran upstairs and then came back with gauze, which he used to replace the blood-soaked shirt bandage he had made. Then she curled up with sheets on her and slept, slept, slept…

When Mimi woke up, the first thing she felt was a searing, throbbing pain in her arm. The next thing she felt was a horrible dizziness as she sat up quickly to look at her arm. She fell back onto her pillows, eyes squeezed shut. Oh she felt horrible…what had happened? Was she hung over? Then she chanced a look around. Her house looked pretty normal; no signs of drunkenness the night before. Her eyes flicked down to her pained arm, and she gasped. It was swathed in a bloody bandage that was wrapped tightly around the arm from her elbow to her palm. She tried to move it. Hurt like hell.

"Mimi? You're awake…" She suddenly heard a voice. Roger's. He had been sitting down by the side of her bed, and now he got up and gently climbed up beside her. She leaned dizzily against him, her arm nudged out of the way. He put an arm around her and ran a hand through her hair.

"Roger…what happened to me?" she whispered. He shook his head and sighed.

"I don't really want to…you're okay now, and Mimi, I am so sorry, I am so, so sorry that I was angry, I'm sorry…" Tears were beginning to run down his cheeks, and he wiped them away. Mimi didn't really need to know right now. She closed her eyes and leaned against Roger.

He would explain the pain later.

**waaaaaaaaah...**


End file.
